


See Behind His Eyes

by neoqueentitania



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: I don't know how to tag this, Self-Harm, Suicide, Trans Grell Sutcliff, grell is a trans woman fight me, this is me venting i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 13:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21477484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoqueentitania/pseuds/neoqueentitania
Summary: Every other time, Grelle can reap a soul with ease. But this time, this soul hits a little too close to home...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	See Behind His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: SELF-HARM, SUICIDE, PARENTS REJECTING THEIR TRANS KID.  
This is really dark, I'm so sorry. I had a bad day and I just needed to work through some stuff, so I wrote a fic. This isn't my best work, but it's late and I'm emotional.  
Please let me know if you need anything tagged, and I'm so so sorry if I forgot anything.

Grelle sighed as she turned down the alleyway. Honestly, if she had to work overtime, she at least wanted to be working somewhere less horrendously dirty. She stopped walking for a moment, leant against a wall, and read off the last name on her to-die list. She shook her head disapprovingly at the entry. 

Alexandra Watson, age fifteen, death by suicide.

‘Poor kid,’ she thought.

The entry was one she was abnormally attached to, hence she’d put it off as long as she could. It had appeared on her list three days earlier, and after watching the child from afar, Grelle had silently hoped that the entry would go away, that someone would intervene.

But the entry had stayed, and the time had unfortunately arrived.

Shaking her head, Grelle considered her usual method of entering through an upstairs window for a dramatic entrance, then decided against it. This time she’d be calmer, more gentle, like she wished someone had been for her all those years earlier.

She stood outside the front door of the small brick row house, waiting for the telltale sign of death to appear in the air. In truth, she was buying time for herself, apprehensive to face the scene that would unfold before her in mere moments.

Meanwhile, Alexandra stood in front of the bathroom sink, father’s pocketknife in hand, unaware of the reaper waiting outside the door.

“Just a few cuts and it will all be over,” the words weighed heavy in the air for a moment, “I can end this all, all the suffering, everything mother and father have been pained by since I came into this cursed existence, a few cuts and everything will end. Everything… will end…”

One cut to the wrist. Then another. Then three more. The blade did its job without hesitation, cutting deep enough to end everything the sorrowful teen had hoped it would. Blood dripped down alabaster skin, then stained the ceramic tiles.

“I’m sorry… mother, father… for all the pain I’ve caused,” 

There was the distinctive, chilling sound of a far-too-young body falling to the ground, then tearful blue eyes blinked one last time, then everything went dark.

Outside, Grelle instinctively knew it was time.

She inhaled, out of instinct more than necessity, then heaved open the heavy wooden door. She walked herself through the house, up the staircase, down the hall, two doors to the left of the staircase landing, and found herself standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Hello,” she greeted in a less flamboyant tone than she normally would have. 

The lifeless corpse at her feet didn’t respond. 

“For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry,” the reaper continued as the cinematic record played out in front of her eyes, telling a hauntingly familiar story.

A young Alexandra twirling in a soft pink gown, proud parents beaming nearby. Then a slightly older Alexandra sneaking to the closet of an older brother, trying on suits and trousers her parents would never approve of for their darling daughter. Two heartbroken parents in a fit of rage, betrayed by their child’s own heart. A year of inner torment, grief, a storm raging inside the mind of someone who just wanted to exist.

Then one cold night in the middle of the darkest Winter, a fateful choice was made in a desperate, broken plea to escape everything.

Grelle shook her head solemnly, as the record came to a close, a brilliant white light fading from the room. Grelle knew this part well, too. 

“What’s going on?” A scared voice shook in the now dimly-lit bathroom.

“You died,” Grelle responded. “I’m a grim reaper. I’ve come to collect your soul and turn you into a reaper yourself.”

“A reaper? I don’t want to be one of those hideous things!”

“Thanks.” Grelle rolled her eyes and knelt down next to the body, now conscious enough to think and talk, innocent eyes still closed.

“Look, here’s the deal,” Grelle sighed, “anybody who kills themself gets forced to oversee death for all eternity all their punishment. Cruel, don’t you think?”

“Terribly,”

“I’m sorry…” Grelle found herself suddenly sombre. That didn’t happen often for her, though she supposed she rarely found herself this attached to a case.

“What are you apologising for, Reaper? I caused nothing but grief and misery to my family, I’m some deranged freak.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Grelle’s voice was sharp, to the point. The words hit too close to home for her to drabble on, she didn’t want to explain her own sob story, not here, not now. She’d explain later, after they’d finished up here. After all, they had all eternity to get to know each other now.

There was a silence in the air. Grelle was, for perhaps the first time, at a loss for words.

“I suppose this is the part I leave with you now?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Grelle agreed, “Though, before we leave may I help you with something?”

Without waiting for a response, Grelle took the bloodied blade in her hands, then swiftly moved it to cut the length of the new reaper’s hair. Delicate golden curls fell to the tiles where the body was still motionless.

“Better.” Grelle nodded in satisfaction at her work, then held out her hand, helping the new reaper stand up.

“Are you ready, Alexander?” She asked.

“For once, I think I am.”

The words left his tongue effortlessly, as if he had not been lifeless on his floor tiles just moments earlier. When his parents returned home from their evening out with the son they’d given all the love they had, they’d find the son they’d rejected gone, the only remnants of his pained life being his father’s bloodied pocketknife and drops of blood against those crisp white tiles. Their darling daughter was dead, reborn as the son he’d always known he was. 

Then sky-blue eyes that had seen far too much pain for such a short life opened, shimmering in the most intense, entrancing green.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this wasn't too terrible, I tend to be overly critical of my own work. I don't know, I hope this is okay. I kind of want to re-write it but it's 10PM and I'm sad and exhausted. Please please let me know if you need something tagged, I'm still learning trigger warnings for everything and how the tags work on AO3.


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